


It's Probably Because We're Stupid

by visiblemarket



Series: Mike Casper is Really Phil Coulson [2]
Category: The Avengers (2012), The West Wing
Genre: M/M, crossovers, mike casper is really phil coulson, mostly implied clint/coulson, timelines don't precisely work but let's not pretend that matters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 21:37:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 6,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/854316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/visiblemarket/pseuds/visiblemarket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically a couple of vignettes dealing with Mike Casper and Josh Lyman being awkward friends without any real plot to speak of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Everyone's Okay

**Author's Note:**

> Set around "In the Shadow of Two Gunmen", Episodes 2.1 and 2.2.

The first time Josh meets Mike Casper, he's straight-up tripping balls.

The sad thing is, it's probably not the worst first impression he's ever made. And it's not like it's really his fault; he has just been shot. Just? More like...Couple of days ago? He's still in that hazy happy fuzzy place, born along by the good ship Morphine, so precision's…not his strong suit. 

And then there's Special Agent Mike Casper. He seems nice. Asks a lot of questions, though. Does he remember anything? _Boy_ , does he. The things he remembers: New Hampshire and Iowa and South Carolina and California, New York, _god_ , New York, but yeah, guy probably doesn't mean that. 

What he does mean, Josh doesn't remember. Toby's face, Sam's voice, Sam's voice coming out of Toby's…face, which is pretty weird, and he kind of thinks it may have been a dream. Pretty sure about that.

They'd been really worried. That makes Josh really kind of incredibly worried, too, without 100% remembering why.

It's going to be okay, Special Agent Mike Casper says, soothing. Everyone's okay. 

He's calm like an ocean, is Special Agent Mike Casper. Unfathomable, but Josh believes him.


	2. Try Ducking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after "In the Shadow of Two Gunmen" but before "The Midterms" (2.3)

The next time Josh meets Mike Casper, it's all over but the shouting. 

He's been awake, really awake, for about three days, and he's had a steady stream of people visiting who he really didn't need seeing him in a hospital gown. He's got basically no shame left, at this point, and one more sleep-deprived guy in a suit isn't exactly going to tip the scales. 

Mike Casper is, according to the introduction Josh is now actually capable of understanding, one of many FBI agents assigned to investigate the shooting. If Josh had to guess, he'd say Mike's kind of in charge of it. Not officially, of course. But in the way that while the West Wing chain of command officially ends with the President, when you need something, from information to permission to a kick in the pants, you go to Leo. Mike gives off the same air of competent exasperation, and Josh feels instantly simpatico with him. Which is great for a couple of reasons, not the least of which being that he can always use a friend in the FBI, and one he actually likes would be awesome. 

Not that he's entirely sure that he does. Mike Casper seems like an okay guy, and he doesn't have to be doing this, but that's exactly the thing, _he doesn't have to be doing this_. Josh has heard all the basics already, because he works with a bunch of teenaged girls who'll gossip about anything.

Mike gives him details: background info on the militia group, what they're doing to shut it down, obstacles they might face. The type of gun he was shot with. The name of the guy whose bullet lodged itself in Josh's lung. How _he_ died.

These are not things Josh feels like he needs to know. Ever, but especially when breathing is newly painful and Donna's only recently stopped tearing up every time he looks at her.

"Why are you telling me all this?" he asks, eventually. 

For a moment, Mike doesn't speak. When he does, he's precise. 

"When I get shot at," he says. "I like to know two things: why it happened, and what's going to keep it from happening again."

Josh is a smart guy. No genius, but he works with a couple, a couple who are great with words, and he knows when things are being left unsaid, and when unsaid things are meant to be heard anyway. 

"You get shot at a lot?"

Mike gives a carefully carefree shrug, like he's just been asked how often he gets cut off in traffic. Josh finds himself laughing; it only hurts a little.

"Any advice? You know, in case it happens again?"

"Well," Mike says, brow furrowed and tone thoughtful. "Next time, you could try ducking."

Yeah. This is a guy Josh can definitely do business with.


	3. Professional Opinion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set before "Somebody's Going to Emergency, Somebody's Going to Jail".

Mike, in addition to having a sterling service record and ridiculously solid credentials, is kind of a mensch.

Case in point: Donna, and the rest of the assistants, but mostly Donna. He treats her like a person, not an extra piece of furniture. Which shouldn't be an amazing thing, but most of the people Josh gets in his office, well…yeah, some of them seem to think _Josh_ is a particularly useful piece of furniture. To them, Donna probably ranks about level with a staple remover. 

Mike's not like that. Mike likes learning people's names, and putting them at ease, and chatting with them like they're the ones he came to see. And he really seems to mean all of it. 

Donna likes Mike a lot. 

Mike kinda seems to like her back, and Josh is okay with that. Mike's (metaphorically) heads and shoulders above the total goons Donna usually dates, plus he's about 99% sure Mike's not a Republican, so that's great too. And yeah, it might be a little nerve-wracking to date someone who's in the line of fire quite as often as Mike seems to be, and Donna probably hasn't thought about that, but Josh isn't going to be the one to mention it. Plus, you know, there's the whole height difference thing, but that works for some people. 

Really, it's none of his business.

Mike should just ask her out already, though. 

"Hey, you busy this weekend?"

Mike slowly looks up from his copy of the briefing book they've been reviewing.

"Kind of. Why?"

"How do you feel about the cello?"

Mike blinks at him. His tone is wary. "Basically ambivalent. Why?"

"Yo-Yo Ma's playing at the Kennedy Center on Saturday."

Mike closes the briefing book. "Josh, are you…" he clears his throat. "Are you—"

"No! No, god. No, _Donna_ , you should ask _Donna_. She loves Yo-Yo Ma. All about the…'Ma…yeah. Donna. Not me."

Mike's eyebrows are up, and there's a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth that doesn't exactly look like a smile. But it disappears pretty quickly, and he shakes his head. "That's probably not a great idea. Professionally."

Josh doesn't know what to make of that. Sure, it's probably true, and he's a real class act for admitting it, and not getting involved, but Josh vaguely feels like he should be defending her honor or something. Donna's pretty great, why _doesn't_ Mike think she's worth it? 

Mike is looking at him like _he's_ the mystery wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a whatever. It's kind of uncomfortable. He glances down and flips through his packet of emerging threats.

"So about the spike in gang activity outside of Cleveland, what do you think that means?"

Mike smirks. "In my professional opinion, I think it means you haven't read past page five." 

That’s fair enough. And true. And a great way to change the subject, so he'll take it.


	4. Somewhere To Be

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

Mike's mouth quirks. "I'm not taking Donna to the opera just because you can't get your act together, Josh."

"Hah hah," he says, without mirth. Mike seems to find this even funnier, actually snorts because of it. Going out for a drink with him may have been a colossal mistake after all. "No, seriously, man. Can I ask you?"

Mike shrugs, taking another gulp of his beer. 

"You were in the service, right?"

"Right." Josh looks at him expectantly, eyebrows up, and Mike sighs. "Army. Why?"

"What do you think of Don't Ask, Don't Tell?"

Mike's face does a strange thing; the hint of good humor in his eyes, at the corner of his mouth, disappear instantly. "It was after my time," he says, tone utterly professional, and Josh wonders just what he's done to step in it this time.

"It was?"

"I was out before '93." Mike looks away for a second after that. Reaches for his drink, but once it's in his hand, he stares at it for a moment, then pushes it away. 

"Hey, Mike, I don't—"

"It's fine," he says, in a tone that challenges him to prove otherwise. "I respect the administration's stance. It puts you in a difficult position, politically, and Bart—" he stops himself. It's obviously a struggle. "The President has done his best. Given the situation."

It's the first time Mike's ever mentioned party, politics, or any of the things that Josh lives and breathes. It's achingly diplomatic. But underneath, Josh can tell there's _something_ he's missing here, because Mike is _pissed_. 

"Mike—"

"Why are you asking me?"

"I just…" he tries not to quail under Mike's steady, ice-blue glare. "Wanted to know how you'd feel about a repeal."

Mike snorts again, with none of the convivial camaraderie of before. "It's not me you have to worry about."

"Who, then?"

"You don't have the joint chiefs for it."

"Fitz—"

"Okay, you've got Fitzwallace and McNally. But I've been in that Sit Room, Josh. You don't have the support for it, not with a Republican congress."

"So we shouldn't try?"

"Oh, I'd love to see you try. But you won't. It's political suicide."

"It's a good cause."

"Yeah." Mike scoffs. "And you've shown yourself as _real_ committed to it." 

" _Hey_."

"C'mon, Josh."

"We've had some…meetings…" And there's nothing else he can say; Mike's right, and he knows it, and he smirks. 

"Yeah," he says, tone almost gentle. Patronizing, actually. "Couple of meetings. Making some noise about considering it, enough to shore up your allies before the election year, but not enough to scare anyone off. But first you've got to field test it with the only service member you know, apparently."

"Mike—"

"What if I'd said, 'I'm against it', Josh? What if I'd looked you in the eye and said, 'Hey, I've got nothing against the gays, I'm a tolerant guy, but it'll hurt unit cohesion, the grunts aren't going to like it, why rock the boat.' What if I'd said that?"

" _Is_ that what you're saying?"

Mike's eyes narrow, and then his face goes blank. "No, Josh," he says. "It's not."

And then, _right then_ , Josh gets it, or at least thinks he does. "Mike, I didn't—"

"Listen," Mike says, not looking at him. "I've got to make a—" He sighs, pulls out his wallet. "I've got somewhere to be. I'll—" he stands up, throws a twenty down on the table. "I'll see you around." 

" _Mike_." He makes the mistake of grabbing his arm, and the utterly calm look Mike gives chills him to the bone. He lets go, and Mike gives him a quick nod.

"I'll see you around," he says again. 

Josh kind of doubts he means it.


	5. In the Area

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during and slight after "Somebody's Going to Emergency, Somebody's Going to Jail", Episode 2.16.

Sam needs a favor. 

It shouldn't be awkward. It's been three weeks, and he's seen Mike since then, and the guy's been nothing but 100% polite and the consummate professional he is. But calling him up again, like they're friends…well, Donna's been handling that sort of thing, but for this, it seems kind of unfair.

He does it, though. 'Cause he's an adult, and he didn't mean anything by it, and there's absolutely no reason a special agent of the FBI should scare the crap out of the Deputy Chief of Staff. Of the President. Of the United States. He is, after all, Mike's boss. Technically. Maybe. He hasn't actually looked into it.

Mike, to his credit, takes his call. "Josh."

"Hey, Mike. How're you…how's it going?"

"Fine."

So that's how it's going to be. Josh sighs. "Listen, you know Sam?"

"Seaborn?" there's something off about Mike's tone, and that should be his first clue, but it's only obvious in hindsight.

"Yeah. He's lookin' into something, he just needs—"

"It's fine. Tell him to come by the Bureau."

"You're not going to ask what it's about?"

"I know what it's _about_ , Josh." 

"Okay. Well. Can I—okay, I'll tell him."

"Sure." 

“See you around?”

Mike makes a noise that doesn’t sound like yes, and hangs up before Josh can confirm.

Yeah. That went great.

*

The door to his office is closed when he comes back from lunch the next day.

It’s weird because he’s pretty sure he left it open, but it’s not that weird, and it’s not like it’s the first time that’s happened. He’s opens the door with a certain degree of caution, but there’s nothing obviously weird in there, so he relaxes and heads over to his desk.

“Harvard, huh?”

“Jesus!” He whirls around. Mike’s glancing over at him from where he was probably inspecting Josh’s diploma. “ _How did you even get in here_?”

Mike gives him a much longer look, one full of what a great number of people in Josh’s life would call unmitigated sass. Which is just… _perfect_.

“Yeah, fine, trained government operative, I get it.”

Mike chuckles and turns back to his dedicated diploma inspection. “Or, Donna let me in.”

“Or that.” He sits down. “Seriously, Mike, what the hell?”

“I was in the area.”

“Your office is four blocks away.”

“So I’m always in the area.”

“Mike.”

Mike turns back to face him, and shrugs. “I pissed off Sam Seaborn.”

“Yeah,” Josh says. “You gonna apologize?”

“No, I was right.”

“I’ll let him know.”

“I just didn’t want you to think it was because I was pissed at you.”

“So you’re not pissed at me?”

“No, I am. But I wouldn’t take it out on Sam Seaborn.” Mike’s poker-faced about it, but Josh gets the feeling he’s somewhat amused, or at the very least, that he’s screwing with him.

“Great. Good talk.”

Mike sighs, and sits down in the chair in front of Josh.

“Mike, you know we’re running a country here.” Mike raises his eyebrows. Josh can’t help laughing. “What, we are. And I know _you’ve_ got a job.”

“Yeah. I took some time.”

“For this?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow.” He looks at Mike, who shrugs. “Okay?”

“I didn’t go to Harvard.”

“Most people don’t.”

Mike chuckles at that, but it’s perfunctory. He folds his hands in front of him. “I was a…I had a rough couple of years, when I was a kid. Fighting and…shit like that.” It’s the first time Josh has ever heard Mike curse. It’s kind of great. “Joined the Army straight out of high school. It was the best thing I could’ve done for myself. For my mom.”

“I get that,” but he knows he doesn’t, and from the way Mike presses his lips together and furrows his brow, Mike knows it, too. He shakes his head.

“Anyway. We…we moved around a lot when I was a little. First real friend I ever made was in the Rangers. First time I fell in love. It was a good—It was a great couple of years for me.”

“Why’d you leave?”

“A lot of reasons.” Mike smiles to himself for a second, and drums his fingers against his thigh. “None of them the ones you think.”

“I didn’t—“ Mike looks at him, and Josh huffs. “Okay. I did.”

“Yeah. And that’s your problem, Josh. You think you know one thing about me, and you think it’s the only thing that matters. Then you find out something else, and it confuses you. I get it. You’re political, it’s us and them, you’ve got to keep it simple. It’s…bible belt bigots and enlightened ivory tower boys. That _wins_ for you. The military’s some intolerant, uneducated monolith, and then you don’t understand why they’re not more receptive of your suggestions.”

“I do understand why they’re not more receptive.”

“Oh? Why?”

“Because I haven’t ‘served’.” He resists the urge to do air-quotes. Barely.

Mike rolls his eyes. “You serve every day, Josh. But at the end of that day, you serve at the pleasure of the president. I serve at the pleasure of the country.”

“And you don’t think the country’s ready?”

“I don’t think the country’s gonna get ready on its own, no. But I think…” a tiny, hopeful smile tugs at Mike’s mouth. “Yeah. I think the country can get there.”

“Why?”

Mike shrugs. “It has before.”

“Yeah?”

Mike smiles again, and his whole face lights up, like a kid’s might. “Have you ever heard of the Howling Commandos?”


	6. Swell for You

“Hey,” he says, peering into Toby’s office because Sam’s not in his.

“What do you want?”

“Did you know Captain America was a real guy?”

Toby gives him a look of concentrated scorn, so, business as usual. “Yeah. From Brooklyn. Why?”

“No reason. Just found out.”

“Well,” Toby frowns at his computer. “How swell for you.”


	7. Calverton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set right after "The Dogs of War" (Episode 5.2) and runs concurrent to [like heartbeats between thunderclaps](http://archiveofourown.org/works/715284).

Josh feels like he hasn't slept for a week.

He hasn't been home for at least that long, anyway. Something smells like it died in his fridge, and he needs to make a trip to the dry-cleaners as soon as possible, and…and it's two in the morning.

He used to think people who said things like "I'm too tired to sleep" were full of it, but the fact is, every time he shuts his eyes, he can hear his heart thudding and is too terrified of opening his eyes again to find that the world has reverted back to the status quo of five hours ago, and has to flip the television on each time to make sure it hasn't.

CNN's still running CJ's last press conference, the one before the staff had been sent home, interspersed with the one from a make-shift podium in the middle of some field in Virginia. Mike's tie is slightly askew and his shirt looks like it hasn't been changed in at least three days, but he's calm and stern as he makes a statement and refuses any questions. His mouth is pressed into a firm line as he turns away from the flash of cameras and walks off, and the scene changes to the night anchorwoman giving a quick recap of the story they have so far. 

Josh hears it out, and then turns the tv off. He shuts his eyes again.

He opens his eyes, and finds them drawn to the red glare of his alarm clock: 2:30 am. He can hear his pulse in his ears again, and flips the television on: commercials. Commercials? No, that can't be—he grabs for his phone, scrolls for the first person to come to mind. 

The phone rings three, four times. Five times, and he's about to hang up, and panic, when someone answers. 

"Hello?"

"Mike?" he says, even though he's pretty sure it's not Mike. There's a pause.

"Uh," says the voice, which is male, lower than Mike's, but otherwise unremarkable. "Gimme a sec."

There's footsteps, a knock, and a quick, strained conversation that sounds like it's being muffled by someone's hand over the receiver. It ends, and: 

"This is Agent Casper." He sounds professional, alert, and Josh realizes what a phenomenally dumb idea this was, because he is, at the moment, none of those things, and it's 2:30 in the morning, and this is why people shouldn't give him their personal numbers.

"It's, uh, Josh Lyman." 

"I know." It's terse, and there's noise in the background that Josh can't quite figure out. Mike's voice is more normal when he speaks again. "Is everything okay?"

"Where are you?"

"Virginia. Calverton. Why?"

"The President wants to see you," which is true, and the first thing to come to mind, but misleading as hell. "But, uh, it can…wait. Till you're back. You're still in Calverton?"

"It was too late to drive back. Did you need something else?"

"No, uh—no. I'll see you when you're back in—"

"Josh." 

He sighs. "Yeah?"

"Are you okay?" And Mike doesn't sound entirely indifferent, but he also doesn't sound like he'd jump into a car and drive over right away either, and for some reason that makes it easier.

"No. I mean, you know. Can't get to sleep." 

"It's probably the adrenaline."

"Yeah, probably," and his voice goes up higher in a way that it's impossible for Mike to have missed, but he's hoping he doesn't know Josh well enough to have any idea what it means.

"Josh."

"Yeah?"

"Is there someone you want me to call?"

"No! No, it's not…" he laughs it off. "It's just…I keep thinking about…I can't sleep."

"You said," Mike sounds more thoughtful at him having repeated it than annoyed at him for having done so, and there's a sound like a door shutting. "Josh, can I ask you something?"

Josh laughs. He calls the guy up at two-thirty in the morning, interrupts what's probably a very well-earned night of sleep, and Mike Casper is still asking him for permission to ask a question. Sure. Why not. 

"Yeah?"

"When's the last time you spoke with Dr. Keyworth?"

Josh swallows. It's probably no use wondering how he'd even know about that. But it still rankles him, it's still a painful reminder that everything he does, every effort he makes to keep himself together, is being clocked by someone. Even if it is someone as apparently decent as Mike Casper, it still feels like a stupidly high price to pay. 

Mike seems to notice the length of the pause, and that's it's probably not a great thing. Josh hears him clear his throat. "I'm sorry. It's none of my—"

"A while ago. It was a while ago. But I've been kind of busy lately, with, you know, my boss's daughter being kidnapped and the whole free world being in jeopardy—"

"And now it's not." There's something so solidly no-nonsense about Mike's tone that Josh actually shuts up for a moment. "Okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll think about it."

Mike makes a sound that Josh has no frame of reference for with him, but which nevertheless sounds familiar. "Take care of yourself, Josh." 

Exasperated, that's how he sounds. Well. How about that.

"I'll try," he says, weakly, and Mike sighs. Less frustrated this time, something else now. Resigned? It’s hard to tell through the phone.

"And stop trying to force it."

"Force what?"

"Sleeping. Go…read a book, or something. Watch a movie. Something not work-related."

Josh doesn't think he has anything not work-related in his apartment. He could always flip on CSPAN.

"By which I do _not_ mean CSPAN," Mike says, which is incredibly creepy. 

"You can be kind of incredibly creepy, Mike." 

"I'm an acquired taste."

Josh thinks he hears laughter in the background, not Mike's, but just a single person, and it's suddenly like his brain has started working again. " _Where_ are you?"

"Calverton."

"Calverton's kind of a big place."

"Not really," and Josh can hear the _so there_ smile. "I'll see you later, Josh." 

"Yeah. See you."


	8. Rain Check

Mike's briefing senior staff at four, because that's probably the best time for it, not that there really _is_ a best time, and Josh makes sure to meet him at security.

"Joshua," Mike calls out, cheerful, like he's gotten a full night of sleep and hasn't and to deal with nutty late-night phone calls on top of his already stressful job. 

"Michael." He waves Mike along, a _walk with me _gesture, and Mike smiles and goes, his odd little bouncing gait back from where it's been the past week or so of hell.__

__"Sleep well?"_ _

__Josh gives him a side-glance, but Mike's not even looking at him, he's sliding his visitor's pass over his head._ _

__"Sure," Josh says, and Mike gives him a brisk nod._ _

__"Want a preview?"_ _

__"What?"_ _

__"Of the briefing?"_ _

__"No, I'm—I'm good."_ _

__"Okay," Mike still doesn't look directly at him, but he's probably watching closely enough to be able to follow as they turn a corner. "It's going to be a barn burner."_ _

__"The briefing?"_ _

__"Yep."_ _

__Josh stops. Mike stops. They look at each other for a moment, and there's something bright and twinkling in his eyes. "You're in a very good mood," and if he sounds accusing, it's entirely unintentional._ _

__"I just closed a very big case," Mike says, smoothly. "Want to get a drink after? To celebrate?"_ _

__"I've got a thing."_ _

__"A thing." Mike raises his eyebrows in question, and Josh nods, a little sheepish. "Rain check, then?"_ _

__"Yeah," Josh says. "Rain check."_ _

__Mike gives him a bit of a once-over, and is apparently satisfied enough by what he sees to turn away and move on. He's halfway down the corridor and a few steps from Leo's office before Josh catches up with him again. He grabs his elbow, for want of something better to do, and tries to pull him aside for a minute. Mike is not easily dragged, but once he realizes what Josh is trying to do he goes willingly enough to the other side of the hallway. Josh lets go of him and tries to figure out what to say, which isn't easy with Mike giving him the _This better be good_ face. The _President_ doesn't even have as good a _This better be good_ face. _Leo_ doesn't. _ _

__"I need you on that wall," he blurts out, and now Mike's face says _what in the fresh hell_. "I mean—I was watching _A Few Good Men_ , because you said— anyway that's you, right?"_ _

__"On the wall?"_ _

__"Yeah." This seemed like a much better analogy in his head. But that's why he leaves the analogizing to Sam and Toby. Mostly._ _

__"Did you just compare me to Jack Nicholson?"_ _

__Josh thinks about it. "Kinda? Like a...not sexist, rude, douchebag version?"_ _

__Mike covers his face with his hand. Laughs, quick, full-bodied chuckles, before shaking his head. "Yeah," he says, once he stops. "Yeah, that's me."_ _


	9. On the List

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during "Liftoff", Episode 6.4.

"Hey, you should give Mike Casper a call."

"Agent Casper, the friendly spook?"

"That's funny, C.J., you should definitely use that when you talk to him. I bet he hasn't heard it before."

"My wit is unparalleled, Joshua, so yeah, I'm pretty sure he hasn't."

"I'm just saying, he was pretty good, right? In the briefing room? During the thing? Y’know, the hostage thing, the Zoey thing."

C.J. purses her lips and appears to think about it. "He's okay. And he's got clearance, so that's one less hurdle. He seemed pretty attached to the FBI, though."

"He'll do it. Just, uh, appeal to his civic responsibility. Tell him the president wants him."

" _Does_ the president want him?"

Josh shrugs. "The president _likes_ him, so. Sure?"

"Fine. I'll put him on the list." Josh aims a pointed look at the pile of briefing packets that are about to tip off Leo's— _C.J._ 's desk. She sighs. "I'll have Carol put him on the list."


	10. Iowa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set around "King Corn", Episode 6.13.

The thing about modern presidential politics is that Josh can find his way around a small-town convenience store with his eyes closed, and probably has. He's not quite there today, but he still feels like a zombie, shuffling past the brightly-colored bags of potato chips toward the brightly-colored cans of soda. He grabs the first box at hand, then considers whether he needs anything else. Chips? Sour-cream and onion, why not. He's debating brand when, out of the corner of his eye, something catches his attention.

Someone, actually. A dark-haired man of average build, wearing a plain black t-shirt, dark jeans, white sneakers with some sort of purple detailing. It takes Josh much too long to place him, and for a couple of seconds, he's almost entirely sure he's wrong, but hey, what can it hurt? 

"Mike Casper?"

The man glances up from his inspection of some mass-produced baked goods. Definitely him. 

"Mike!"

"Josh." Mike smiles and walks over, plastic shopping basket in tow. "You look like hell."

"You look…" And it's hard to say: he looks different, more than anything. No suit, and he looks like he hasn't shaved in a couple of days, and his hair's longer than Josh has ever seen it, flipping up a little at the base of his neck. But he doesn't look like he's being pulled in a million directions at once, and he's got freckles all across his forehead and nose. "Good. You look good, man. What're you doing out here?"

"I'm on vacation." 

Josh raises his eyebrows. "In _Iowa_?" 

Mike shrugs. "In Iowa."

"Seriously?" 

"It's quiet." And maybe, if that had ever been Josh's experience with Iowa, he could see his point. As it is, Josh mostly thinks of Iowa as long interminable stretches of corn fields seen through campaign bus windows and large crowds screaming about ethanol.

"Well sure, if you like that kind of…middle of nowhere creepy…children of the corn thing." 

"It has its appeal." Mike says, smiling to himself in a way that is, in fact, kind of creepy. "How's the campaign going?"

Josh shrugs. It's going, and at this point, that's a miracle. 

"I like your guy." Mike says, unbidden, and Josh is strangely warmed by the idea that he's kept tabs.

"Yeah?"

"Marine, right?"

Josh nods. "Strong on defense, strong for our country."

Mike makes a face, _not impressed_ , and Josh shrugs. "Don't quote me on that. But you'd like him."

"I already do.”

“No, I mean, in person. And he'd like you."

"Lot of people like me, Josh. I'm a likable guy."

"I have always said that about you."

"Mm," Mike hums to himself, and Josh finds himself grinning. 

"Seriously, how are you, man?"

"Fine."

"I hear you're not with the FBI anymore."

"That's true."

"You need a job?"

"Are you hiring?"

"Well, you know, _hiring_ …we could always use more envelope stuffers."

Mike laughs. "Maybe answer some phones?"

"Hey, everybody's gotta start somewhere."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Josh looks at him again. He has _always_ liked Mike, Mike's always been a good guy, reliable and decent. And he doesn't exactly look a mess, but he looks a little out of place here, in the middle of nowhere, dressed down. Josh is not ashamed to say it's a little disquieting. "Seriously, Mike, if you need—"

"I don't," Mike says, all quiet, firm authority. He smiles again. "I'm fine."

"Okay. Were're you based now? We should get together."

"New York." Mike grimaces, which is kind of weird. Maybe he's a country boy, it'd explain _Iowa_ , of all places. But no, Josh remembers the long, incomprehensible conversation with Leo, he's from Chicago, and very fond of it. "Mostly."

"Cool, cool, look, when the campaign winds down, I'll call you."

"Okay," Mike gives him a wan smile, like he's humoring him.

"Great. And seriously, Mike?"

"Yeah?"

"You're looking good, man."

"Thank you, Joshua." Mike's mouth twists with wry sincerity. "You're seriously looking like hell."

Josh laughs, and takes the time to flip him off before turning around to go pay.

He looks around the store on the way out. Mike's nowhere to be seen.


	11. National Security

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set around "La Palabra", Episode 6.18 and concurrent _Iron Man_ , pretty much entirely because they're both in California.

There's a sharp whistle behind him and Josh turns around slowly. Mike Casper's on the other side of the street, holding a cup of coffee, looking very amused and much more like himself than he did in Iowa.

"We have to stop meeting like this," he calls out, and Josh laughs. He crosses the street, even though it's the opposite direction of where he needs to go, and gives him a hug. Mike keeps very still during it, but pats him companionably on the back before he pulls away.

"I think maybe the universe is trying to tell us something," Josh says.

"Like what?"

"I don't know, man, maybe we're meant to be."

Mike smirks, and waves his left hand in front of Josh's face. "The universe could probably improve its timing." 

Josh stares at his face, then at his hand, then back at his face. "You got _married_?!" 

"Two years ago, Josh."

" _What_. I never noticed!"

Mike gives him a _Well there goes your career in the intelligence field_ face, which is fair enough. Speaking of his career or, y'know, not: Josh checks his watch. "C'mon, I'm late, walk me to the bus, we'll talk."

"Sure, 'cause I definitely don't have somewhere to be."

"Come on, Mike, you're consulting with a high-level staffer for a presidential campaign on national security, you can spare…" he checks his watch again, and walks faster. "Five minutes? Five minutes."

Mike keeps up with him easily, that same vaguely swinging pace he's had since Josh has known him, but it's almost bouncier now. "National security, huh?"

"Yeah, it's good, right?"

"Could be better."

"We'll work on it. Speaking of, you wanna meet the candidate? I can get you five minutes, and I like you, so if you need a job—"

"I like my job. Josh—"

"No, man, seriously, how the hell did _this_ ," he gestures vaguely at the ring. "Happen?"

"It's kind of a long story."

"I've got time!"

"No, you don't," Mike says, nodding his head at…oh look, there's the bus, about a block away, and the press are only just starting to get on. 

"I've got a little time! C'mon." 

"I met someone, we fell in love, we got married."

"Whoa, whoa, slow down there, Garrison Keillor."

"Josh—"

"I'm serious, Mike, I gotta hear all about this, just…give me a call when you're back in DC, okay?"

Mike smiles at him indulgently. "Okay."

"Just, uh, tell me one thing?"

"Yeah?"

"How'd you propose?"

Mike ducks his head, runs his thumb over his ring, and Josh can't see it, but there's a smile in his tone. "I didn't." 

Josh laughs, and waves at him as he gets on the bus. "Seriously. Call me, we'll get coffee."

Mike waves back, a real, honest-to-god grin on his face, a real, honest-to-god ring gleaming on his finger.


	12. Kind of a Busy Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during _The Avengers_ and let's say about two years into President Santos's first term.

There are aliens in Manhattan.

There are _aliens_ in _Manhattan_.

There’s also a fighter pilot in the Oval Office who almost has to be tackled to the ground to keep him from trying to go all _Independence Day_ on said aliens ( _IN MANHATTAN_ ). So yeah. It’s a pretty busy day. 

Not just for the White House Chief of Staff, but kind of especially.

*

He doesn’t do it right away (KIND OF A BUSY DAY), but when he hears about Captain America, he makes a note and files it away. Decides to find out when Mike’s birthday is, because Josh is going to make it the best one the guy’s ever had, to make up for the fact that he hasn’t called him since before the election.

But yeah. When he finds the time, it’s going to be great.


	13. See You Around

He can't say he's ever taken the time to think about what Mike's type might be. In a general kind of way, inspired, probably, by the times he'd seen him talking to Donna, he would have figured it was something along those lines, but male: the clean-cut All-American thing, bit of a farm boy look maybe, competent but kind of nuts (he says it with love). 

The man sitting in front of him right now, regarding him with a singularly unhappy expression, is not that. Josh remembers the understated awe the White House as a whole inspired in Mike, from the Oval Office down to the cafeteria, but this guy doesn't share it. He's in jeans, a grey t-shirt, some kind of chain around his neck, and a battered leather jacket. He reminds Josh of nothing so much as the bruisers he'd given a wide berth in Cambridge's more downscale drinking establishments. Josh is secure enough in his masculinity to understand that someone like Sam is beautiful, handsome, appealing, and so on, but this guy…well, if Josh were the type to see the appeal, he doesn't think he'd see the appeal. 

He's shorter than Josh, not by much, but it strikes him, suddenly, sharply, that he doesn't remember how tall Mike was by comparison. 

The man leans forward and takes his sunglasses off, folding them up and hooking them on the neck of his t-shirt. His eyes are blue, possibly darker than Mike's had been, but Josh finds that he doesn't remember that either. His expression is softer than expected. Although, not soft: Pained. 

"Listen. I'm sorry about—"

He waves his hand impatiently. "Look. I don't wanna be here talking to you anymore than you want me here. But Phil liked you, and I figure, he'd want you to hear this from me."

"Phil?"

He makes a harsh, quick sound. "Phil," he says. Swallows, as his eyes flicker down. "Phil Coulson. Mike Casper, to you."

"Okay. What happened?”

“Battle of Manhattan,” he says, and Josh nods, because what the hell else can he do?

They sit in silence for a few moments.

“So he was S.H.I.E.L.D?”

A nod.

“How long?”

“Classified.”

“Okay. And you…?“

That earns him a look that is painfully reminiscent of Mike—Phil’s, and Josh tries to swallow the lump in his throat. He glances down and remembers something, the reason he’d called, the reason he’d found out.

“Did he ever get to meet Captain America?”

The man laughs, rough but genuine. “You knew about the—yeah. Yeah, he did. I wasn’t, uh…” there’s a sharp swallow as he runs a hand across the back of his neck. “I wasn’t there. But he did.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

Silence again. The man fidgets, distractingly running his finger along the stretch of chain before it ducks under his grey shirt till something jangles. Dog tags, Josh realizes.

And Josh can’t think of what to say, which is strange, because he’s lost people himself, too many times. But maybe that’s why, maybe he knows how little any words, any _thing_ , really, will help at a time like this. He does his best.

“He was good man.”

The man smiles. Kind of. “The best.”

“Yeah.”

“You were a good friend to him.” 

Josh almost chokes. He hadn’t talked to him in nearly a year. Hadn’t realized he’d stopped working at the FBI till five months after he’d left. Hadn’t known his real name. “I could’ve been better.”

There’s a quick, brittle huff of laughter. “Yeah. We all could’ve. But he cared about you and, uh. Yeah. You should hang on to that.”

“I will,” Josh says, and the man nods at him with a sense of finality.

“Okay. I've gotta get going.” He stands, and holds a hand out to Josh. “Clint Barton. Good to meet you.”

Josh takes it. “Josh Lyman. Which you…know.”

Clint shrugs. “Yeah. See you around.”

Josh doesn’t think he will, but then again, it’s a brave new world. Stranger things have happened. “See you.”


End file.
